


Tears

by kitkatkaylie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Balon Greyjoy’s A+ Parenting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Stuffed Toys, Theon and Robb are Babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Theon was a Big Boy, he was Ironborn, and Practically a Man. He should not be crying, Yara had told him to be brave, and Mama had said he was her strong little man, and Father had said that only Cravens and Greenlanders cried.He still missed his mama though, in this big castle so far away from home.
Relationships: Alannys Greyjoy & Theon Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy & Robb Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Tears

Theon was a Big Boy, he was Ironborn, and Practically a Man. He should not be crying, Yara had told him to be brave, and Mama had said he was her strong little man, and Father had said that only Cravens and Greenlanders cried.

Theon was not a craven or a greenlander. 

He scrubbed his sleeve against his eyes and glared at it when it came back damp. 

He wasn’t crying, it was just dust in his eye or- or pollen from all the weird plants everywhere. He could t be crying because crying meant he was  _ not-a-Greyjoy _ and- and his name was the only thing he really had left of his home.

(He still had his bag of things from home, his clothes and the letter his mama had written for him. But the clothes would soon be too small and they were no good for the cold of the North. And the letter was already creased and soft from too much handling, and he did not think it would last much longer.)

Theon looked at himself in the small mirror in his room and tried to pull a face like Rodrick ( _ unseeing eyes on a head thrown at Father’s feet _ ) or Maron ( _ a pale body among the rubble of the courtyard, surely just asleep _ ) or Father ( _ angry and disappointed and looking down at Theon with disdain) _ . He tried to make himself look scary, to make himself look like a  _ proper _ Ironborn, one who had been anointed with salt and steel and who had their sailor’s marks.

But he did not look like them. He looked like a scared, stupid, little boy. His eyes were red and there was the betrayal of tear tracks on his cheeks and all he could think was that his mama would have pulled him close and ran a comb through his hair with a fond tut had she seen it in the state it was in. 

The thought of his mama sent a pang through his chest and suddenly Theon had to get away. He had to get away from the mirror with the sad boy and the room that was his and yet not. 

He ran through the corridors, hating how familiar they already were to him, until he reached a small window seat. It was out of the way, and not somewhere that Theon had been found yet by the Lord and Lady of the castle, although he was sure they knew he used it. He was sure they knew everything he did, ever watching in case they needed to find him quickly to send a message to his father. 

He curled up on the wooden bench, in a ball as small as he could make himself. If he wrapped his arms tightly enough around himself he could almost believe that it was his mama holding him. Almost. 

He knew he should not want her quite as much as he did. That he was Ironborn and Ironborn did not need their mamas. 

Not even when they were cold and scared and in a place far from home surrounded by people who hated them. 

“Are you alright?” A child’s voice piped up, high and sweet and far too innocent, “You look sad.”

Theon scrubbed his hands down his face again and made sure to glare as he looked up, “Me? Sad? You must be seeing things!”

He’d made sure to inject his voice with far more bravado than he truly felt, he wouldn’t let anyone in Winterfell know he was upset. He couldn’t trust them at all. If they knew he was sad or scared then they would use it against him.

“Are you sure?” The boy, the oldest of Lord and Lady Stark’s brood, sounded so disbelieving that Theon found it hard not to take offence. “You look like you’re sad.”

“What would I have to be sad about?” Theon tried to snarl, but was afraid it came out more like a sob.

“Is it because you miss your mama?” Stark asked, tilting his head, “Is that why you’re sad?”

To Theon’s horror a sob escaped his throat, he desperately wanted his mama, and to hear it said so innocently by the son of his captor somehow made it hurt even more. 

A tiny hand patted his shoulder, “Do you want a hug? Hugs always make me feel better.”

Theon sobbed again, “No! I don’t want a stupid hug. I want my mama, and Yara, and my home and my things. I want the sea and- and-“

The hand disappeared, and through eyes filled with not-tears Theon saw the little boy run off down the corridor. It made sense. Not even a child could stand him when he was such a weakling. 

He knew he should move, that someone might discover him in the window seat, and then he would have to deal with even more questions. But Theon could not bring himself to. His limbs were too heavy, and he felt far too tired to be able to move. 

He did not know how long he stayed there, wrapped up in his own arms, it could have been minutes or hours. 

It took footsteps coming towards him for Theon to finally raise his head again. He was sure it was Lord Stark, come to tell him off for something, or Lady Stark who would sneer at him for being Ironborn or- 

It was the boy again, his red curls bright and almost painful to behold. In his arms was something that Theon did not recognise from a quick glance, and there was a look of concentration on his tiny face. 

When he stopped before Theon, Stark handed over the object in his arms carefully, like it was something breakable. And yet, when Theon took hold of it he was surprised to find that it was soft.

He looked down at the object, at the fish with silvery scales and a line of red down its side. It was made of some sort of soft fabric, and stuffed with even more cloth to make it squishy. It felt almost like the squid that Theon had once owned, the one his father had burnt in front of him with a scowl and a slap and a reminder that he was a  _ Greyjoy not a craven. _

“I thought he might help.” Stark said in his too innocent voice, “I know he’s a river fish and not a sea fish but he still might help you!”

Theon looked at the fish again, he looked up into Stark’s big eyes, “Won’t you be sad without him?”

Stark- no,  _ Robb _ \- shook his head, “No! I have a wolf as well, besides you look like you need him more than me.”

Theon cracked a weak smile and hugged the fish close, “Thank you.”

Robb beamed at him and Theon found his smile widening in response.

Maybe he would find a friend in Winterfell.

Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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